


When Sherlock Buys the Cake

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Humor, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wakes to a note from Mrs. Hudson. "John's Birthday. Cake." Sherlock proceeds to try and make John's birthday right. Unfortunately, this is Sherlock we're talking about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Sherlock Buys the Cake

**Author's Note:**

> I was given the prompt of Sherlock buying John a birthday cake...

Sherlock woke early. He rolled over and found a sticky note in Mrs. Hudson’s handwriting:  “John’s Birthday today. Cake.”

He sat up quickly. “Yes, cake,” he muttered to himself, getting up and dressed. The other side of the bed was empty, which meant John had already left for work. He briefly wondered how Mrs. Hudson had come up with the sticky note without waking him, but dismissed the thought as unimportant.

He went straight into the front room and grabbed his coat, noticing that John had left him some toast and jam on the table. He grabbed it and ate as he headed down the stairs, wondering where one would acquire such a thing as a cake.

He pulled out his phone and quickly did a search for bakers. There appeared to be one just a few blocks away. This should be a simple matter.

Stepping into the bakery, Sherlock froze in place, momentarily blocking the door. The place smelled of bread and sweets and one large case contained a virtual cornucopia of cakes of all sorts of shapes and sizes. Blinking, he stepped towards the cake, trying to ascertain which one John would prefer.

“Can I help you?” Sherlock glanced up at the man. Middle aged, family business, three kids and a cat. Wife deceased two years earlier.

“I need a cake,” he announced.

The baker smiled. “We have all kinds. Is it for a special occasion?”

“Birthday. Today.”

“Well we generally do more made to order cakes, but we have some over here already done up.” He led Sherlock to another case. ” What flavor?”

“Flavor?”

“Sure, we have chocolate, yellow, carrot, vanilla…”

“Just a moment,” Sherlock turned away and pulled out his phone again. He quickly fired off a text to Lestrade. _What flavor of cake does John like? – SH_

The answer came back in moments. _Not my division. – GL_

Sherlock scoffed at his phone. The baker was watching him expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. “What is your most popular flavor?”

The baker crossed his arms, amusement clear in his eyes. “Does your friend like sweets?”

He had to think for a moment. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then probably not chocolate. Here, this yellow cake might work for you.” He pulled out a plain white round cake.

“Yes, thank you, that will do.” He reached for his wallet.

“Do you want anything on it? Like ‘Happy Birthday’ or a name or something?”

“I believe he knows his own name and that it is his birthday.”

The baker gave him a look. Sherlock swallowed. “’Happy Birthday’ is fine.”

“I’ll be right back then.” He took the cake into the back of the shop. Sherlock paced around, wondering what on earth anyone would need so many varieties of baked goods for. He noticed several of the birthday cakes came with plastic balloons. It would at least make the cake more interesting. The baker came out with Happy Birthday written in red letters.  “Could I perhaps get that on the cake as well?” He pointed at a cake clearly designed for a five-year old.

There was an eyebrow raise. “Of course, sir, if that’s what you like.”

Sherlock watched as he stepped into the back and came back with several pieces of plastic flotsam. He picked out the balloons and set them carefully into the frosting.

“Perhaps that lion as well?” He seemed to recall John enjoying a documentary on lions a few nights ago. This one appeared to be a cartoon circus lion balancing on a ball, but it was nearly the same thing.

“Is there anything else, sir?” Sherlock could hear the careful politeness.

“No, that will be all.”

The baker shook his head slightly and carefully boxed the cake before taking Sherlock’s money. “Have a good day, sir.”

Sherlock was already out the door, carefully carrying the cake. He took four steps from the bakery and nearly collided with a cyclist as he stepped off the curb. Biting his lip, he minded his steps better until he was back on the sidewalk again.

Somehow he managed to get back to Baker Street without colliding with anyone else. He carried the cake upstairs and set it on the kitchen table. Did cakes belong in the fridge? He went to the fridge and found the collection of kidneys he’d forgotten about from last week. Pushing them to the side, he made room for the cake.

Closing the door and looking at the flat, he wondered if there was anything else he should do. Molly and Lestrade would be over tonight, perhaps he should clean up? He walked into the front room and picked up a magazine. An article on the migration patterns of swallows caught his attention and he sank into his seat.

Mrs. Hudson found him there when she brought up a sandwich and tea for lunch. She set it in front of him and went into the kitchen. Sherlock was sipping his tea when he heard a small gasp as the fridge opened. “Sherlock, dear, do you really need so many kidneys?”

“It’s an experiment,” he called, turning a page as he absently ate.

There was the sound of Mrs. Hudson rearranging things in the kitchen. She came back out a few minutes later. “I put the kidneys in the crisper so they wouldn’t damage the cake.”

“Is that a concern?” asked Sherlock, looking up at her.

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “Did you get John a present?”

Sherlock blinked owlishly at her.

“There’s a sale on at Harrods, you should be back in time.”

Sherlock quickly finished his tea, grabbed his coat and scarf and bounded down the stairs, using his power to summon cabs as he exited the flat. “Harrods,” he said shortly.

He paid the cab driver too much and hurried inside. So many people. John…a jumper, yes, that should do. Quickly locating some he started sorting through them, hoping to find one John would like.

After a few minutes of frantic searching he found one with a large picture of some sort of dog. It was sort of a periwinkle color, but he hoped it would do. Uncertain of John’s size, he picked one more or less at random and took it to the cash. He had it gift wrapped and hurried out to catch another cab.

By the time he arrived home, John was in the shower. He put the present in the kitchen and checked the fridge. The cake was there as was a bottle of wine. Sherlock pulled open the crisper to check his kidneys, but quickly straightened as he heard the shower stop.

He was back in the front room with his magazine when John came out. He leaned down and kissed Sherlock giving him a smile. “How was your day?”

“Boring, as usual,” lied Sherlock easily.

“Of course,” John chuckled. “I’ll get dressed, the others will be here soon. The takeaway will be here in a few minutes. Try not to terrify the delivery driver this time.”

Less than an hour later Lestrade, Molly and Mrs. Hudson were in the flat with Sherlock and John. Mycroft never showed, of course, but Sherlock strongly suspected he was responsible for the bottle of very fine wine they were all currently consuming. Mrs. Hudson stepped into the kitchen and came out with the cake box. Sherlock saw John’s face light up at the sight.

“Sherlock picked it out this morning,” she said proudly. John’s face went from delight to suspicion to worry and then back to a smile.

“I’m sure it’s brilliant,” he said, moving to open it.

Molly’s hand went to her mouth. Lestrade attempted to stifle a laugh against his sleeve. John just grinned at the balloons and the lion. “Well I certainly know you were the one to pick it out.” He looked at Sherlock in a way that made the detectives heart melt.  John accepted the cutlery from Mrs. Hudson and started cutting up the cake for everyone.

After the cake came presents. Lestrade gave him a watch, Molly a book. Mrs. Hudson gave him a jar of homemade jam from a friend in the country. He reached for Sherlock’s box last. Lestrade poured himself some more wine as John moved the paper and pulled out the periwinkle jumper.

For a few long moments the flat was silent. “Does the poodle have a pink hair bow?” asked Lestrade at last.

“Well I think it’s lovely,” said Molly, shooting him a look.

Lestrade looked as if he wanted something stronger than the wine as he sipped it. Sherlock studied John’s face. He smiled and shook his head. “It is lovely, Sherlock, thank you.”

“Try it on,” said Lestrade. Molly elbowed him.

John stood and pulled it over the shirt he was currently wearing. It was at least a full size too big, the sleeves bunching up and the length falling down to his thighs. On a man of John’s size it had the unfortunate effect of looking like he was wearing something of his fathers. Or mothers. Lestrade hastily excused himself for the bathroom.

Sherlock bit his lip, hands fluttering nervously. John pushed the sleeves up and took his hands. “It’s perfect Sherlock, really.” He leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Molly grinned at the pair of them. Lestrade came out of the bathroom with tears in his eyes and a red tint to his cheeks. “I think I better take him home, he’s had a bit much to drink,” said Molly, taking Lestrade’s arm and steering him towards the door.

“Thank you for coming,” said John. He tried to wave but the sleeve fell over his hand.

Mrs. Hudson gave him a hug. She smiled at Sherlock. “You did well. I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

Alone at last, Sherlock looked down at John, studying his face, looking for any sign that he’d miscalculated. All he saw was love. He relaxed, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Happy Birthday, John.”

“Thank you. Really. Come on, we can clean up in the morning.” He pulled Sherlock down for a proper kiss. “There’s one more birthday present I want from you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to art any of this I will love you forever. Drop me an ask or a message if you do.
> 
> Update! I commissioned some art and its [absolutely adorable](http://merindab.tumblr.com/post/67471279860/merindab-sherlockscockywink-commission-fore). By sherlockscockywink
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
